


You Can Leave Your Staff On

by runsinthefamily



Series: Torn Trousers [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2011-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-22 17:21:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runsinthefamily/pseuds/runsinthefamily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kmemer wanted Fenris tearing Anders's clothes off.  Torn trousers have to come from somewhere, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Leave Your Staff On

The mansion door had barely closed behind them before Fenris was on him, driving him up against the wall, gauntlets pricking through his clothing as the elf did his best to kiss Anders right into madness.

"Mmmf! Fen - mmnff," said Anders.

Fenris leaned away, only to work feverishly at the buckles on Anders's coat. "Stupid," he was muttering. "Cannot stay in the back, where you are safe, must run up and hit things with your staff, as if it were a weapon."

"It does have a blade on it," Anders pointed out.

" _Venhedis_!" Fenris took two handfuls of Anders's coatfront and shook him as if he were a child. "You were wounded! Stupid mage, what happens if you fall?"

"Well, apparently I get snogged senseless," said Anders. "From where I'm standing, that's not exactly a deterrent."

Fenris snarled. There was a faint ripping noise where the claws of his gauntlets were embedded in cloth.

"Hey," said Anders, "careful there ..."

"Careful?" Fenris suddenly blazed alight. Deep inside, Justice made a small not-noise of shocked pleasure, as he always did when Fenris lit his tattoos so close. "You do not get to speak to me about careful, mage. I do." _rip_ "Not." _rip_ "Care." _rrrrriiip_ "About your clothing."

"Uh," said Anders.

Fenris kissed him again, raging lyrium pressed directly against his flesh, and Anders pretty much gave up. There was a flex and bunch of the muscles in Fenris's back and arms and, with a thick, almost sensual, sound, Anders's coat came away in pieces.

Fenris jerked the remnants off Anders, staggering the mage, and then took hold of his shirt at the collar. The threadbare cotton tore as easily as paper. Fenris slid one steel-sheathed finger into the laces on Anders's trousers and pulled, slowly now, forehead pressed against Anders's, staring into his eyes. One by one, the laces popped.

"Holy maker," said Anders, voice thick and distorted.

"I'll give you a choice," said Fenris. "Take the rest off, or I will."

"What's one more pair of torn trousers?" Anders said, swallowing.

Fenris bared his teeth and ripped.


End file.
